


stop with the lies (i just need one truth)

by preciousghouls



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Shenanigans, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Modern Steve Rogers, More stony content will be in latter half probably, Palladium Poisoning, SHIELD Agent Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, one sided fake marriage, steve rogers need a good beating then a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-01-23 12:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21320392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousghouls/pseuds/preciousghouls
Summary: "...Steve, can I just know one thing?"Steve didn’t speak, but neither did he ride away. Tony wanted to stop himself, to say it was nothing, to just turn away, or maybe give his soon-to-be ex a good beating."Do… Did you love me, even for a second?"The silence was a loud enough answer if Tony ever heard one (he had).*SHIELD Agent Steve Rogers goes undercover as a barista to keep an eye on Tony Stark after the Afghanistan kidnapping, ends up marrying him as part of the mission, then divorcing him once his mission was completed.Then months later Loki invades Earth, and Iron Man joins SHIELD as part of the Avengers Initiative because nothing matters seeing as the arc reactor is killing him. While Tony immediately recognises the man behind the cowl, Steve has no idea who Shellhead is (OR DOES HE???), there's some alien shenanigans, and boy will this identity porn troupe ever get old
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 191





	1. Before the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> look who is it with the stony angst! yes its me!!!!!!!  
this is probably the 14125857382452536th stony ive written but only the 2nd im posting, ever. there's just so many headcanons! so many different dynamics i want to explore! this is one ive decided to post before i lose the courage again, in which steve fucks up in a different way than in cacw, but alsooooo its all about lies and lack of communication [as usual]
> 
> there’s also a lot of long sentences with tons of commas and ‘ands’ because im trying to think like tony who somehow doesn’t run out of breath from all that thinking  
not beta-ed as it always is with me… all mistakes are mine! please forgive any tactical mistakes you may spot because... yknow...... im here for the romance not the waR
> 
> EDIT 12/11/19: updated tags! modern!steve rogers refers to cap being born in the 20th century; this cap never went to the ice and came out as a man out of time. (same with bucky) sorry for any confusion!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stony backstory, happens just a little after tony's kidnapping  
slightly IM1 compliant

** _Then _ **

Their story was such a cliche, Tony Stark might’ve laughed if he didn’t also feel like someone had ripped him from inside out then fed him his own flesh. 

In hindsight, gross image, but at that moment? Yeah, that definitely summed up how he felt, down to the very last toenail.

It had been hate on first sight. Or, more accurately, the worst first impression. Tony was on his (self assigned) lunch break and had been in a special mood to grab his own coffee when he’d met Steve Rogers in his favorite coffee shop just five streets down Stark Tower. Which, yes, he was the CEO of, had been for years.

Because Tony was, as mentioned, in a _ special mood_, he decided to leave a huge tip for the barista he assumed was in-charge of brewing Earth’s mightiest coffee. And, yes, Tony could admit the barista was well-built, but he was also likely too young, and things went to shit immediately after that anyway, for Steve had frowned at the bills Tony pulled out of his wallet, and strongly rejected the tip. Which then led to a heated argument, and the gathering of a crowd, which meant phones and video recordings and bam, Tony Stark was viral for the first time in a long _ week _. 

(It was the words, “And yet money can’t buy back the lives we’d lost can it!” that struck Tony to his core, made him hurt even now, because he of all people knew that . And he’d clamped his mouth shut, and turned to leave, leaving the money on the counter, because it was a fucking tip the barista deserved.)

Pepper, who had been on an overseas trip for a big contract seeing as Tony was _ not _ cleared to fly, called to (rightfully) scream at him for breaking his promise to stay out of trouble while she was gone, and how the deal was ruined not because of _ him _ but because of how worried _ she _ was over him (they still couldn’t manage a conversation about the time he was kidnapped) and couldn’t focus on the client, and how the company stocks had suffered (naturally). 

_ Then _ she heard his side of the story, sighed through a hoarse throat, and demanded that Tony make an apology to the barista. He begrudgingly agreed, because the coffee he’d been drinking the past two days tasted like utter _ shit _, but hadn’t found the right motivation to resolve the issue. And Pepper, bless her, knew him better than he knew himself at times.

So the next morning, he’d shown up to the coffee shop with fresh flowers in hands, because if there’s one thing his Mom taught him, it’s that the language of flowers were one of the most heart-felt things in the world. And Tony’d be damned if he didn’t listen to his mother, who managed to get _ Howard Stark _ to fall head over heels for her. It was also one of the last things she’d ever taught him before they both died in a car crash, but hey, not the time nor place for _ that _ story.

Where was he? Ah, right. He’d shown up in his best _ suit _with a bouquet and marched into the coffee shop, strides confident when he felt anything but, and there the barista was, preparing for the day, and without looking up he’d said, “I’m sorry, we’re not open for another…” The words had died when he saw Tony, eyes widening comically. 

“Stark?” For a second Tony thought about how the barista didn’t call him _ Mr. _ Stark, like how most people do, and for some reason that made his smile more genuine than he’d intended for it to be. It didn’t help that other than his perfect physique, the barista actually looked _ really _handsome upon closer inspection. Those baby blues and messy bed hair that screamed Too Good To Be True? Totally Tony’s type. 

“Hey.” Tony cursed when his voice broke and coughed (_ loudly _) before trying again. “So. I got chewed up by my assistant - Pep’s really scary when she wants to be, okay, - and she’d established it was 100% my fault and I should apologise, which I guess I can agree but honestly I’m not really good at that? So I picked up some flowers since you seem like you have a thing for them? Sorry if I’m wrong. And I, uh, really am sorry about the other day. You just make really good coffee and I didn’t know how else to show my appreciation and wow… I should really shut up now.”

Tony swallowed, thrusting the bouquet at the barista - _ Rogers _ , his tag, the one pinned on his zero wrinkle uniform, read - and was sure his face was an embarrassing shade of red. He always rambled, it was what geniuses did since their minds worked faster than their mouths, but Tony also had his _ nervous ramble, _as just demonstrated. It used to be a minor issue; he could usually keep himself in check, but ever since Afghanistan, the smallest thing could set him off. Most days, he annoyed even himself.

Then Rogers accepted the bouquet with a soft “Thank you”, and Tony fell in love. Well, okay, not quite there yet, but he was definitely crushing on the man now. “I forgive you, St- Um, Mr. Stark.”

Now, Tony couldn’t have that, could he? Coming from Rogers, Mr. Stark sounded mortifying… in an oddly polite way. He shook his head, fiddling with his fingers as they no longer had anything to hold onto. “Tony. Tony is fine. In fact _ please _ call me Tony. I’d like to be friends with you, Rogers.” _ And hopefully your boyfriend. _ He tried a charming grin; it always worked, even when he was a broken mess. “You do make a mean cup of coffee.”

And the rest, as they say, was history. 

(And because Tony couldn’t help it, he had to narrate the history part, of which Rogers - Steve, short for Steven, was his name - turned out to be the sweetest cinnamon roll who _ somehow _ saw _ something _ in Tony, and he was a man even Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and even _ JARVIS _sung praises about, a feat he thought impossible until the very moment. He fell, hard and fast, too gone to see the signs, to see the obvious, because how could anyone love someone like him? 

But he did not see it then, no sir. He proposed their second month together, and Steve had accepted, and they’d had a private wedding, attended by their closest confidants. There was no need for the world to know; it would just be another thing they disapproved of, and Steve didn’t deserve that. Steve, who’d been orphaned at the wee age of 10, had invited Romanoff and Barton, the first friends he’d made at the orphanage. And being the fool in love he was, Tony asked nothing beyond what he was told.)

They were happy together in Malibu. Or so Tony thought. At least, _ he _was happy for the blissfully ignorant period of one married month. Great coffee, great company. Great fucking life. 

Tony was _ grand _ with his _ gestures. _ It wasn’t old news. He liked spectators witnessing his success, but he liked surprising people he loved more. He liked making the people he liked happy. And he _ loved _ Steve, so of course he’d wanted to make surviving their first month as a married couple the most memorable event to date. 

He’d returned to Malibu after four whole days away on a personal matter to take care of, hours before his ETA, because he was Tony Stark and he was a genius and he could do better than a private jet, and he’d bought Steve a _ huge _Disney plush since the big oaf seemed to like it so much, and there Steve was, by his bike in their backyard, his back to Tony and his name on Tony’s lips, and-

“Yes, sir.” And that was a tone Tony had never heard, so devoid of emotion. “As my latest report state, I have established that Tony Stark is not a threat to the United States of America. That is my final assessment.”

The breath he inhaled was so deep, so sharp, a knife straight to his gut. Steve turned, expression blank, and Tony willed his heart to calm the fuck down. He needed to get the facts, that was just a phone call, there was no way Steve was doing anything behind his back in the name of the _ government. _

He tried a smile, but his lips felt like dried cement. "Hey, honey. Surprise." 

Steve didn’t smile back. He ended the call, hand falling to his side, still staring at Tony with the same blank expression. His heart didn’t just sink, it was falling, so close to the ground. 

"Who was that?" Tony cursed how it came out a croak, a plea. Weak. He’d never had to worry about sounding weak with Steve. 

“My boss.” Steve’s voice was clipped, precise. One of a soldier. “My mission has ended. There is no longer a reason for us to keep pretending.”

_ No, no, no. _Tony willed his heart to keep it together. He had a damned arc reactor powering his heart, did he not? Not that Steve knew what it actually powered. Not yet. 

“Pretending.” He paused, just to ensure his heart still beat. “What was your mission?"

Steve didn’t even blink as he answered, "To keep an eye on Tony Stark. The government was concerned about whether you would be a liability after Afghanistan."

"From the start…?" It was amazing how Tony could still find his voice, weak as it was. Steve knew about Afghanistan. The kidnapping. Did he knew about the arc reactor as well, then? Knew Tony needed it to stay alive?

"Our meeting was planned from the start."

Tony gagged, stomach lurching as the memory of their meeting was splattered in black. _ Holy shit. Fuck. Jesus Christ. _Steve, either unaware or uncaring to Tony’s state (or both), pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his chest pocket. It didn’t take a genius mind to figure out what it was. 

"I’ve already signed the divorce papers. All the money you’ve spent on me the past few months will be transferred back to your account once we receive confirmation on the divorce."

_ I don’t give a shit about the money, _ Tony wanted to shout. _ I _ loved _ you! _Steve was already on his bike, ready to take off, carrying nothing with him. The bike was his, the clothes he was wearing were his… Tony dared not look to see if Steve was still wearing his ring. 

Instead, because he must be more masochistic than he’d thought, "...Steve, can I just know one thing?"

Steve didn’t speak, but neither did he ride away. Tony wanted to stop himself, to say it was nothing, to just turn away, or maybe give his soon-to-be ex a good beating. 

"Do… Did you love me, even for a second?"

The silence was a loud enough answer if Tony ever heard one (he had). Then the engine roared to life, and Tony flinched at the thunderous sound, reminding him of less pleasant times. 

"For what it’s worth," Steve whispered, almost to himself, "I’m truly sorry that things turned out this way." And he was gone. Just like that. Didn’t even spare a glance to the Disney plushie that was nearly ten foot tall next to the gate.

Tony waited for the tears to come. There was none. He tried to search himself for anger. There was none of that too. He was a hollow shell. Then he recognised one thing - resignation. Yeah, he could deal with that. Of course Steve left. Everyone eventually would, wouldn’t they? 

And later, well, Tony would just be damned fucking glad he didn’t tell Steve all the times he’d had to leave the country he was spending time as a man in a metal tin blowing up terrorist bases like he’d very much almost done that night. 

Really, thank fucking God. 

*

He had just stood staring at where Steve had been with his bike for so long, a distress signal was sent to Rhodes and Pepper. Courtesy of a protocol Tony had set up with JARVIS. Tony loved his AI. He should extend JARVIS’ perimeter. There was no one he trusted more. 

Then Rhodes appeared, flinging himself out of a cab, still in his pajamas and mismatched sandals. Pepper arrived not long after, Happy frowning in disapproval at Tony as he helped her out of the backseat. 

"Tones!"

"Tony!"

"Boss."

Said man was surrounded before he knew what was happening, gentle but worrying hands guiding him back indoors, murmurs of _ Are you okay?, When did you come back?, Where the hell is Rogers? _and of course, of course Tony told them everything. 

.

.

.

"Rogers did _ what_?"

Rhodes swore, a creative string of words Tony hadn’t heard since he returned from his presumed death. Pepper released a sharp breath, eyes three shades darker than he was used to. 

"Tony, we _ failed _ you."

Pepper nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes wet, looking so frustrated and upset Tony just wanted to hug her better. Pepper had that effect on others. "We were just so happy to see _ you _so happy after… what happened, and we failed to see Rogers was not who he claimed to be. I’m disappointed with myself."

Happy sounded anything but happy when he said, "Boss. Just say the word and I’ll take him down."

Tony managed a snort at that. "He’s some sort of secret government spy, Happy. I don’t think he’ll be taken down too easily."

"You don’t know for sure until you try," Happy insisted.

"I’ll be more than glad to join in for that one," Rhodes added, all serious. "I can pull some strings and figure out who he’s working for."

Tony threw his hands in the air. "Guys, come on! Stop being such drama queens. It’s no big deal."

"Yeah, boss, JARVIS contacting both Rhodey and Pepper and me is definitely no big deal," Happy deadpanned, and he had a point. Happy’s emergency contact was programmed to be used only under _very_ specific circumstances. 

"I saw Mr. Rogers leaving in a hurry and thought Mr. Hogan would be of aid in case we needed transport, Sir," JARVIS supplied before Tony could ask. Jesus, what was he thinking programming all these smartass things into his favorite AI? 

He looked down at his hands, only realising then that he was fiddling with his wedding band. Suddenly exasperated, Tony wiped a hand down his face. It came off greasy, because he hadn’t showered for over twenty four hours. "Really, it’s fine. It’s my fault for seeing something was wrong, y’know? Tony Stark and commitment should never be in the same sentence…" _ Like Howard said. _

And then he was enveloped from all sides again, this time with a few soft whacks. "Oh, Tones, shut up. We’ve been your emergency contacts for years now, haven’t we? If that isn’t commitment, I don’t know what is."

Then Tony smiled, tried to come up with a smartass remark, failed, before finally allowing himself to let out an ugly, painful sob. 

*

_“Mr. Stark!” _

_ Tony called out the first name he saw. “Maze!” _

_ The woman literally preened at being picked among the crowd, flipping through her mini notepad furiously. “Mr. Stark! There were several sighting reports, and a video of a golden/red suit of armor soaring from Stark Industries just minutes before the arrival of authorities.” _

_ Maze produced a Stark Phone from her pocket, unlocking its screen to reveal an enhanced image of the Iron Man armor. A string of curses tightened Tony’s throat, but he bit down on the inside of his cheeks, keeping them to himself. He’d seen what happened when someone knew who he was, what he’d created. He was a man who once took pride in being known as the Merchant of Death. _

_ “Doesn’t it look awfully similar to Stane’s armor? There are claims that it was _ you _ who flew away in the armor after murdering Stane! What do you have to say to that, Mr. Stark?” _

_ That it’s the truth? Tony shoved the snarky voice away; he needed the logical side of his mind right now. He thought, and he thought, and he tapped his fingers against his pants, eyeing Pepper and Happy who gave him a time out sign. It came to him as abruptly as it left his curled lips, _

_ “Why, Maze, how awfully hurtful that you think I’d murder Obie. I’ll have you know, I have armed bodyguards patrolling my company 24/7. Is it such a surprise that someone I hire has the intellect to retrieve spoils of war?” _

_ That drew collective gasps from everyone in the room. Cameras flashed and chairs rattled as questions took a different turn than what the press conference was meant to address. Lie after lie fell from Tony’s lips easily, making his gut twist in a way that made him hate himself, but it was for the greater good, he rationalised with himself. Wasn’t it?_

*

** _Present_**

The news of Obadiah Stane’s death had barely been on the news for three days before aliens started appearing from the sky, because apparently that was the new norm now. Tony had just returned from the unavoidable press conference, trying to pour himself a drink because that’s what you did when you found out your father figure was an even bigger asshole than your biological father. 

Not forgetting Stane’s last words: "I’ve dissected the arc reactor, Tones. I know what it’s doing to you. Can’t wait to reunite with you in hell, son."

The bottle of wine slipped from Tony’s fingers, shattering on his marble floor. _Fuck_. That was an 1879. The two men who shaped Tony into who he was today laughed from somewhere in Hell. Whatever. He turned back to his shelf collection, picking out another bottle, when JARVIS spoke. 

"Sir. You might want to see this." And by _ might _ , JARVIS always meant _will_. So Tony waved a finger. "Hit me with it."

Videos - footages - pinged around him. People running, screaming. The largest screen, though, of a news station going Live, was a footage of New York skies, a large wormhole overseeing the city. And _ things _coming out of it. 

"J?" Tony’s hand slid away from the bottle of wine the same way the haze in his mind did, pacing to the windows instead. There the hole was, and smoke rising from several buildings. Something zoomed past Stark Tower, and he felt the vibrations to his toes. "Enhance visual. What are we dealing with?"

"Sir," JARVIS begun, a screen appearing on the glass before Tony, and he felt a headache incoming. "To the best of my knowledge, there are no other words to identify these beings other than ’Aliens’."

Well, that’s just great, wasn’t it? A wormhole in the sky, _aliens_ riding on some sort of flying scooter (he’d love to dissect that) destroying New York _three days _after Tony was forced to kill Obi and found out he was slowly being poisoned to death from the only thing keeping him alive. This was his life now. Probably a small part of a plan that karma had for him after all the years Stark Industries had been producing destructive weapons. 

"J, my suit."

"Sir." It was always heartening to hear disapproval in JARVIS’ voice, in the form of a single word. It reminded Tony of his old butler, who he missed dearly. "The Mark VII is…"

Tony clicked his tongue. "Nuh-uh, don’t wanna hear it. It’s kill or be killed, so gimme my suit now."

"Very well." The AI didn’t bother to add a _ Sir _, and Tony loved him a little more. He parted his feet and spread his arms as JARVIS assembled his armor, and he felt a little better once the face plate closed down, shielding him from the world. Then he saw the floating ship that was coming straight for him, watched as his sensors picked up dozens of the alien bastards it carried and muttered, "Fuck" before rushing right at it. 

He slammed into the front of the ship - shit, was the ship a _ living creature? _\- and tried to look for an empty building to slam the thing into. Why were there people everywhere? New York was way too populated. “Thrust power at 100%!”

“But, Sir, the arc reactor-”

“Jesus Christ, why don’t you have a little faith in me, JARVIS.”

"Always, Sir." The thrusters fired up, allowing Tony the advantage he desperately needed. The alien ship creaked and made a sound terrifyingly close to a wail, and he started pushing _ back, back, back. _If he could just throw the damn thing back in the wormhole with a missile or two… 

"Sir, incoming." Before JARVIS finished his warning, the ship was smashed into a high-rise building. What the hell moved at this kind of speed? Actually, Tony didn’t give a damn. It could be another alien for all he cared, as long as their enemies were the same. Hearing screams, he shot towards the building where the suit detected civilians. They screamed even louder when they saw him, and Tony was _ almost _ tempted to lift his faceplate to get them to shut up, but no one could know he was Iron Man, _ no one_. So he grabbed them and got the hell out of the building as it begun crumbling.

He set the three civilians in a relatively far distance from the rubble and told them to get the hell away from the hole in the sky, ignoring the stares and the beginning of what was surely a '_Who are you? _ ’ on their lips. But because Tony was the personification of _ curiosity killed the cat _ , he approached the rubble, hoping to get his eyes on the _ thing. _

What he saw was… A man? He had long, messy locks of dirty blonde, a ridiculous looking costume (he was wearing a _ cape _!) and a hammer in his hands. Tony stared as he sat up from a dent he’d made in the alien ship with a groan, looking to be without so much as a scratch. When their eyes met, the literal glow of the man’s - alien’s - eyes had Tony readying his repulsors. He wasn’t even sure they’d work on him, but God forbid him from trying.

"Who the hell _ are _ you?"

The man slash alien stood, tossing his hammer into the air and catching it effortlessly as though it weighed nothing. "I am Thor of Asgard, the God of Thunder. Worry not; I am on the side of mankind. This is the work of my brother, Loki, and I am working with the honorable members of SHIELD to destroy the Chitauri army."

_Oooooooookay_. That was… a lot. But then again, they were chatting while an alien army - the Chitauri, Thor called them - terrorised New York. So what if this alien shared the same name and choice of weapon as a God from human myths? Tony filtered out the useless bits, focusing on what was important. Pepper would be so proud of him. Thor was on his side, his brother was the mastermind, and there was some SHIELD organisation also dealing with the threat. Great, he could use that information. 

"Where’s this Loki guy? If we get him, the army will surrender, right?" Tony blasted at an alien that was charging toward him, and heard its cry as it hopefully fell to its demise. 

"He’s there," Thor pointed in the direction Tony had come from, and _ fuck _ , was the creepo actually standing on the roof of _ his tower? _"A force field is protecting him. We need to get past it, and destroy the scepter. Only then will the portal close and the army be shut down."

"Okay, cool, great. I’ll get to the scepter thing somehow, so can you like, just try to keep the Chitauri away meanwhile?"

Thor grinned, and it transformed his face from this broody old man to a bright, innocent child. "You would help me stop my brother? I am eternally in your debt, Man of Iron. Trust me; I would not let anything get in your way."

It was only when Thor flew, his hammer leading him, and brought down lightning upon the Chitauri, that Tony truly believed him. 

*

Tony was quite done with dying. Or having near-death experiences. Or whatever people called it. He knew, when he brought it upon himself to enter the wormhole with a missile on his back, that it would become another thing that haunted his dreams. First Howard, then the car accident, then Afghanistan, then _ Steve _, then Obie (Stane, he kept reminding himself). At least this time it wasn’t anything personal. 

He was falling; too fast, his entire body shutting down. This was probably it. He would die, and people would find out who he was, maybe be crowned a hero for a day or two? He recalled a conversation with Steve, seemingly so long ago, where they’d shared their childhood heroes. God, he missed Steve, the asshole, the liar, the _ love of his life _ . He wished his suit system weren’t down so he could try and dial Steve one last time, even though the number he had was no longer in use, because then at least he’d had died _ trying- _

-But then. The impact never came, and Tony couldn’t feel the pressure of the air like he did when he was falling, and he heard voices. 

"Jesus, is he still alive?"

"Can’t check with all this metal."

There was a split second where he thought the voices sounded familiar, and oh fuck, the realisation that he was alive, and _ fuck _ , they were pulling at his armor. _ No one _could know who he was. No one could know Tony Stark was Iron Man. He couldn’t trust anyone, not outside of Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and his bots. No one could get their hands on the suit and weaponise it and kill more innocents. Everything hurt, but Tony’s panic triumphed the pain and he croaked out,

"Hello, yes, I’m alive, thanks for caring. Can someone please press the big red button on my left shoulder? I won’t explode, promise."

He wanted to _ scream _ when he was met with silence. “Come _ on _. Help a man out, I just fell out of a wormhole to save mankind, and I really need some air here, okay?”

At long last Tony felt the press of the button, and his suit whirred to life, running on backup power. He could see the sky again, the wormhole nowhere in sight, and he let himself breathe as JARVIS recited the damages he would have to repair. Later. Much later. He was exhausted. Two faces came too close to his faceplate, and Tony jumped inside his suit. 

_ Romanoff and Barton_. Both were dressed in full black, weapons in both hands, cuts and blood and dust covering bare skin. They looked like soldiers. Like _Steve_. Well, fuck. They were Steve's colleagues. At the wedding, Romanoff had been in a blood red dress, and Barton in a suit with a bowtie, all polite smiles. They'd even shared a few jokes. Clearly it was an occupational thing. _ Maybe Steve's here too_. 

Tony had no idea where that came from. Okay, he knew perfectly well where from, but he was not going to entertain that line of thought. They worked for the government, which meant they were a threat to him. He shot up purely on adrenaline, muttering coordinates for JARVIS. He had a safehouse, none too near nor too far, for moments like this, though he was thinking he'd been needing to hide there far too much recently. 

"Oh, look, Metal Guy's up."

Before Romanoff could form her own words, Tony was gone. 

*

And somehow, regardless of how fucked up his life had been looking, Tony was still crept out when he returned to his penthouse one night, weeks after the alien crap, to see that someone had broken in, past JARVIS' security. The bastard was enjoying one of the most expensive views of the city. 

"_Now _ what?" He might be a hallucination, but despite how much Tony drank that night, he knew he wasn't that drunk. The bastard turned, an eyepatch making his grumpy face seem even more miserable, and _ That's great, _ Tony thought to himself, _ This time I get to entertain a pirate. _

"Tony Stark. Self proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

“That’s me. Look, if you want to kidnap me, can you try again tomorrow? I’ve kind of hit my quota of people for the day. Or week, I suppose. It _ is _Friday.”

A thick stack of paper landed at his feet with a flop. He blinked twice at it before raising his brows at the intruder. “What’s this?”

“It’s something I call the Avengers Initiative. I’m Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. And I would like Iron Man to join the Avengers.”

Well, fuck. Tony was definitely not drunk enough for _ this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One updated 9/11/19! Just edited little details here and there, and added a short chunk of mentioned press conference above the tony-sees-alien scene, inspired by 616 canon! 
> 
> so i am not actually sure whether to continue this, hope for some feedback and i'll see how it goes!! (:  
(if you're wondering how can steve be SUCH AN ASSHOLE to marry tony for the sake of it... i mean... steve has His Issues which i will happily address if i continue this)


	2. Welcome to the Avengers, Iron Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony meets the avengers as iron man,  
the plot thickens TM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, thank you for all the kudos and comments! chapter two has been born, and ive made some edits (cough beta-ed maybe) to chapter one for this to make more sense? tags and summary updated as well (:  
a bit more talking for the sake of my son tony, but hope you like this chapter regardless!

** _Present_ **

If there was any doubt that Tony (no, _ Iron Man _ ) would take Fury on his offer, then Tony would love to shower them with cash (love), because that was something he would absolutely do. You know, before he was kidnapped and tortured and fell in love and married and divorced and killed the closest thing he had to a father figure and found out he was _ dying _and -

He heard a voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Pepper, telling him to breathe. So he did.

And - And yeah, Tony was dying. Optimistically speaking, he had three months. Minus the drinking and constant usage of the suit, that was. At this rate, one month _ tops _. And if he was going to die anyway, why not join a super secret boy band that sounded like they could use his services? It felt nice to be needed, even when it was not as himself.

(He totally got it; Iron Man was much more useful than Tony Stark. Iron Man could be seen as a pillar of strength, while Tony Stark was one of America’s most fucked up billionaires. It worked out for him anyway, when he recalled the announcement he’d made to the press just earlier that day. One too many people now knew his identity, and he would prefer to keep them close.)

So he officially invited Fury to sit, poured him a drink (or two, or more), listened to the one-eyed Jack talk about threats from outer space, and then said yes. 

"Yes?" 

"Yes." Tony waved his empty glass in the air, "To your super secret boy band."

"You may be drunk, Stark, but I’m not above taking advantage of that."

At that Tony snorted. "Won’t be the first to try, and definitely not the last. Emphasis on _ try _." Then, in a low voice, "But no one can know Tony Stark is the man within the armor."

"Take my word as it is when I say I have no intentions of broadcasting _ that _." Then Fury produced a pen, and Tony signed without reading past line one on page one, and slid the contract toward Fury. 

"Cheers."

He passed out after downing his drink, and that was that. 

*

Tony woke up with one of his worse hangovers. His head throbbed, and his vision was made up of a dozen moving blobs, but even through that he knew this was not his lab, or his bedroom. There wasn’t the usual greeting from JARVIS, not even a good morning, or afternoon, or evening. He’d programmed JARVIS better than that, especially when the number of things he was having nightmares of _ just. kept. increasing. _

(And that was why hangovers on 11 of a 10 scale were a norm now, because it was either that or the nightmares. There was no doubt about which Tony preferred to spend the remaining of his days with.)

He held still as his mind pieced itself back together, and tried to recall what he could of the day prior. It had been a long day with the R&D team, and Pepper had sent him home with strict orders to rest. No, wait - he’d asked Happy to accompany him for drinks, only to be dragged away the moment he started to slur his words. Right, he’d returned to his penthouse and some weirdo who called himself _ Fury _ who’d managed to get past JARVIS was there. 

It was then that he saw the suitcase that was in fact the Iron Man armor in the corner of the room, with an ugly, ripped-from-a-notebook note stuck on it with cheap tape. Sucking in a deep breath, Tony stood, waited for his world to right itself, and wobbled his way to tear the offending slip of paper from his suit. 

_ When you see this, put on your suit and get out. Agent Hill will be waiting outside your room to brief you. _

_ You’re meeting the rest of the Avengers. Welcome to the team, Iron Man. _

_ Nick Fury _

Tony would scoff if he didn’t know it’d make his head explode in pain. Was this considered kidnapping? Well, he _ did _ sign a contract before reading it, so probably not. No, he was not going to regret this. He had promised himself, as he watched Obie ( _ Stane, _ for the last time, he’s _ Stane _) fall to his death, to never regret another damned decision he’d ever make in the remains of his life. So he popped aspirin conveniently left on the dresser into his mouth, waited for it to take effect, and donned the suit, instantly feeling more like himself.

True enough, someone waited outside his room. A woman dressed in a similar fashion as Romanoff and Barton during the Chitauri invasion. When she noticed him, she straightened what was already a straight posture, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Mr. Stark,” she greeted. His hand twitched, because why did she know -

“I’m Agent Maria Hill.” Pointing to what was likely a security pass with a younger version of her face on it, “Director Fury and I are the only ones with a Level 10 and 9 clearance, and the only ones in SHIELD who know Iron Man is Tony Stark. Excluding Iron Man himself, of course.”

“Can you not be so loud?” Tony hissed, eyeing the empty hallway. His voice had half its usual venom, and thank his genius mind for the voice changer he’d implemented in the helmet. JARVIS had already run a quick scan of the surroundings; he was on some sort of plane, and the long stretch of hallway that looked too military-like for his tastes was empty, but Tony had lived through enough of ’things are never as they seem’.

Agent Hill rolled her eyes, an unspoken _ You’re so dramatic _, and Tony liked her a little better. She reminded him of Pepper. Ah, crap. Tony gave JARVIS a silent command to send a message to Pepper and Happy that he couldn’t make it to the company today. “So. Fury left a note saying you were unfortunately given the task of briefing me?”

"Well, more like baby-sitting, because the Avengers are made up of a group of _ children _," her lips curled down in slight disgust, before flattening into a neutral line of professionalism, "but you’ll see for yourself soon enough."

So they walked, shoulder to shoulder, JARVIS scanning everything in sight and beyond, keeping Tony updated in the safety of his suit. SHIELD files and data filled his screen; he asked innocent questions and tried to match Hill’s answers to what he saw. He was on board the Helicarrier - a SHIELD aerial carrier that also acted as a ship, the way it did now. Parts of its engines seemed to be damaged,

The Avengers Initiative, a Level 7 classified project, was described as an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become more. _ Remarkable people. _Jesus. What had Tony signed up for? He skimmed through the same file he had signed but not yet read, marking details that might be of use in the future, and moved on to the important bit - the other members. 

...Coming up empty. A note had been written where the information was meant to be: _ File is currently being updated. Reupload in approximately 7 hours 31 minutes 21 seconds _ and counting. How bloody convenient. He’d be going in blind, then. 

Most of the other files were uninteresting. It seemed SHIELD was a counter terrorism agency under the government. Hill’s answers generally matched the available data. Even so, there were gaps too wide, too obvious, too empty. While he had not spotted any lies, there was something SHIELD was hiding. Tony could work with that. 

They reached the end of the hallway, stopping before a closed door that looked about as plain as all the other days. There was muffled sounds of casual conversation from the other side. Hill stepped aside, gesturing Tony forward. "The Avengers are waiting for you inside, Iron Man."

He was grateful that she at least put in the effort to sound confident. It helped with his nerves, somewhat. Alrighty then. He’s just gonna waltz in, calm and collected, and introduce himself as Iron Man. Not much different than meetings, really. He could do this. Tony reached for the knob, forgetting it was an automatic door, stumbled, and nearly fell flat on his face if not for JARVIS. 

He was met with silence as he steadied himself, face burning an even hotter shade of red than his suit of armor. Was that a muffled snort he heard from Hill’s direction? Probably not. 

“Uh, hi guys,” he managed to force out as he took his first glance of the room - a small meeting room, it was. Around the table sat familiar and unfamiliar faces, paused mid conversation as their attention was on Tony. Panes of glass on the other side of the room gave them the view out at sea. “I’m Iron Man.”

The first to speak up was, unsurprisingly, Barton. 

“Oh hey, it’s the Metal Guy.” _ What the fuck is Barton doing here? _He was relaxing on the chair furthest from the door, legs propped onto the table, hands behind his head. “Man, Director, you didn’t mention about the latest addition to the team?”

Fury, who was standing in the shadows with his arms crossed, shrugged. Something in that moment struck Tony as _ odd _, but he couldn’t quite place the feeling. Instead, he watched as Romanoff, who sat next to Barton, gave him a curt nod. 

"Welcome to the team. I’m Black Widow, and this loudmouth -" she pointed a thumb, elegant, at Barton, "- is Hawkeye. We’re also SHIELD agents."

It didn’t really click in yet, even as a third person, a man in a purple shirt, spoke up in a soft voice. "Hi. Um, I guess people call me… The Hulk."

The Hulk. That sounded familiar. Tony couldn’t quite put it together yet. Why was that again? Oh right; he had a hangover. And he hadn’t had coffee in over twelve hours. Coffee. Something about that made his mind fizzle too. Why was his heart pounding so quickly, his blood a loud rush in his ears? 

"Well, welcome aboard," Barton gave a mock salute, "Just missing one more guy now. He should be here soon." And it hit him. _ Steve. _ His mission, his boss. He worked for SHIELD, for Fury _ . Fury _ had sent Steve to watch him, that must be how he knew Tony was Iron Man. But that would also mean _ Steve _had known and reported it back to Fury, but there was no-

None of that mattered when Tony heard Steve’s voice, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "We need help cleaning up the mess down 71st…."

Steve’s voice died down, and Tony went stiff within his suit. He wasn’t sure he could feel his legs. Or hands. Or his body. Then Steve spoke again. 

"You must be Iron Man. Thor told us about how you’d helped during the Chitauri invasion." Thor. The God of Thunder. Right, that was a more believable outcome. If someone had come into contact with Iron Man the way Thor did, it wasn’t entirely impossible to connect the suit to Tony Stark. (And wasn’t that just another concern for him on this team till his inevitable demise?)

"I’m Captain America, a founding member of the Avengers. Pleasure to meet you."

If nothing else, the words _ Captain America _ had Tony twisting himself, armor whirring at his effort, to look at… Steve? Not-Steve? ’Captain America’ was dressed differently than Romanoff and Barton, in a suit slash costume the colors of, well, America. It made him look more of a performer than a secret spy agent who was also in the frontlines against alien invasions. Though, when put _ that _way, it was fitting in an odd way. 

It was his eyes that Tony noticed first (always, it was always his eyes) and had him doubting the man’s identity. Even behind the cowl that looked suffocating at best, he could see how distant and misty Steve-not-Steve’s eyes were. Tony recognised the look, one he’d seen plenty as Iron Man; the look of someone who had lost too much. He was more than tense; shoulders hunched, jaw clenched so tight Tony could see the whites of his jawbone, and sprouting a _beard_, of all things. It brought back a memory Tony could’ve gone without remembering, but oh fuck, it was already here, and he was spiraling down memory lane.

*

** _Then_ **

The question had occurred to him one night, Steve and him lying and relaxing together. No, they hadn’t _ slept together _ \- Tony never… they’d never… Let’s just say the faux flesh that hid the arc reactor from public eye was not something Tony wanted to explain to the hot guy he’d known for one month, thank you very much. And Steve, ever the gentleman, had never made any inappropriate moves on Tony, unknowing of the existence of the device. 

They cuddled on the couch, fully clothed mind you, watching as Jasmine took Aladdin’s hand, as the familiar tune of A Whole New World started playing.

Tony was pretty much half gone by then. He’d already watched this once with Pepper and Happy, another with Rhodey when he returned from a mission. Possibly a dozen more times of the original version when he was still young and carried hopes and dreams in the steps he took. 

But Steve was humming along, his entire body vibrating as he did, making Tony shiver and tilting his head up. His goatee brushed against Steve’s cheek as he mumbled, sleepily, "Steveeeee."

And Steve had jerked away, rubbing a hand against his ear, rubbing it like he’d been touched by poison. But it wasn’t that; Steve was just ticklish on a ridiculous level, and on some days Tony’s goatee was his ultimate weapon. 

"Tony, I told you, don’t do that," Steve scolded without heat, and who could resist those perfectly kissable lips? So Tony tugged him by his hand, bringing his face down for a ticklish kissing session that had Steve pulling away laughing. "_T__ony! _"

The question had come to him, then, in his sleepy haze. "Have you ever considered a beard?"

Steve had raised his brows, gaze dropping to Tony’s goatee. "A beard?"

"Mm. You look so young like this, y’know. Thought you were a college student when we first met. Maybe if you had a beard…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Steve had rolled his eyes, reaching out to scratch at Tony’s goatee, and he felt the oddest urge to purr like a kitten. "No, Tony, I don’t see myself growing a beard."

"Mm?" Tony let his surprise show through lidded eyes. "’hy not?"

"Hmm, let’s just say I have a thing for looking presentable. Never know when a billionaire might take an interest in you."

*

** _Now_ **

They’d laughed, then. Now Tony wondered if there was some other reason Steve didn’t want a beard. Or maybe this wasn’t Steve after all. The physique and voice and circumstance pieced together perfectly, but the man in his patriotic uniform didn’t. He briefly registered that he should acknowledge the man with actual words, now if only his body would cooperate…

Fury stepped forward, unintentionally or because he knew their history and was decent enough to do _ something _, Tony didn’t know. “I’ll send a message out to any available agent. Agent Hill, can you stay and make sure no one kills each other while I’m gone?”

Hill nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

Tony found the turn he needed to get back to the present as Fury excused himself, and there was a physical shift in the mood as everyone seemed to relax once the door closed behind him. Tony realised the odd feeling from earlier to be tension in the way Barton had interacted with Fury. Even Captain America seemed more at ease, which begged the question of _ what the hell is up with that? _

"Boy," of course it’s Barton who spoke up, Tony was beginning to understand what kind of man he was, "That was awwwwwwkward. So, anyone up to try that new Thai place? We can hijack one of the Quinjets."

And because Tony still couldn’t understand what was going on, “Uhhh, I’m usually all for breaking the rules, but I don’t really know what’s going on and -”

Hill patted his shoulder, “Give it up, Iron Man. Once Hawkeye set his eyes on a goal, he’s never going to stop till he gets it.”

_ Do you know? _ Tony wanted to ask her. _ Do you know what happened between me and Steve like Fury probably, no, definitely, does? _ But he didn’t. What good was a genius if he didn’t use his brain before he spoke? There was a voice in his head telling him _ she doesn’t _, and like the same fool he was at the tender age of fourteen, Tony listened. So he followed the crowd as they filed out of the meeting room, making small talk that anyone with half of Tony’s brain could tell was tinted with a neon shade of tension.

A Quinjet, as it turned out, was an oddly shaped aircraft that did not look to be a type of jet capable of being developed under the government. Take it from someone who hacked into the Pentagon in high school over a dare. He did get a free cheeseburger out of it, so there was that. 

They approached a Quinjet that was darker color than the rest. The Avengers Quinjet, Hill had explained when he’d glanced at her. Barton, or Hawkeye, Tony supposed he should get used to calling, took the pilot seat. Everyone seemed to have their own assigned seats, so Tony just sat where it was empty, next to the Hulk. A steaming cup of coffee was pressed into his hands, and he tried to convey his gratitude to Hill through the helmet. 

"Just had a feeling you needed it," she gave a quirk of the lip before settling into the chair in front of his. Next to her sat Captain America, and in front of him, Black Widow. Tony had the strangest feeling the seat his ass sat on was Thor’s, that the Avengers were already a rather solid _ thing _, and Iron Man was somehow thrown into the equation, messing up the formula. He tightened his grip on the cup, about to bring it to his lips, when the Hulk initiated conversation. 

"Hey. Iron Man, right?" Tony turned to the man, looking and shy and reserved as he sounded. His eyes shone with curiosity and intelligence, reminding Tony of himself. "I was wondering if you would be willing to share a little about how the suit works?"

Tony smiled, a big yet private smile behind the suit, as he chattered animatedly with the Hulk. He was clearly a man of culture. By the five minute mark, Tony was sure he’d found himself a science buddy. 

It was only when Barton announced they’d touch ground soon did Tony remember the cup still in his hand; it’d gone cold, but coffee was coffee, so he lowered his lip guard just enough for the cup to touch his lips, and downed the liquid in one mouthful. 

His first reaction was to moan, a soft, content sound. Then he swallowed it before it could be heard by Steve, because there was no doubt the coffee was a Steve Rogers brew. Tony had flown so many places, drank so much coffee, but no one made coffee like the way Steve did. It was honestly ruining the one good thing Tony had going in his life. He had the strangest urge to crawl into a corner and cry; something to do with nostalgia, perhaps. Or pain. 

He (thankfully) didn’t get the chance to dwell on it for they’d arrived at their destination, disappointingly still somewhere in the States, if Tony’s tech was anything to go by. (And JARVIS, to his credit, Tony realised, had remained silent since Steve’s appearance on the Helicarrier. If he’d said anything, it would’ve taken one second to put the pieces together. There was no living soul who had JARVIS’ voice. Not a single one.)

One thing was for sure; there was no Thai food in sight. There wasn’t any building in sight; they were in an open field, in the distance trees, trees, and more trees. It was a little disappointing for Tony, who was starting to feel the effects of not having any proper meals in the last sixty hours or so. Cicadas croaked around them, to Tony’s ears sounding like a futile plea for help from those who were left behind before the seasons changed. 

They stood in a small circle, for no apparent reason, Hawkeye next to Widow, Captain America (Tony was going to find out the history behind that as soon as the files were back online) to her left, then the Hulk, then Tony, and Hill. Eyes seemed to wander to Steve, somewhat expectantly, but the man had his eyes set on the overgrown grass. What the heck was up with him? Shitty was an understatement for Tony’s life the past few months, and he didn’t look like _ that _. 

Someone cleared their throat. Hill, it was Agent Hill. "Sorry about that, Iron Man. We had to refrain from acting suspiciously while we left the Helicarrier. Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to talk."

Tony considered processing that in his head, but some things were simply not meant to be. "Uh, I’m pretty sure there was some form of conversation going on back there?"

Another embarrassingly dry clearing of the throat, “I would truly appreciate it if_ someone _ could take over about right now?” She was borderline glaring at Steve, somehow still managing to pass it as a heated stare. Steve wasn’t looking at her though; he’d found a rock to kick at, and was focused on it like it was mankind’s last hope.

Widow bumped her shoulder into his, her voice soft as she addressed him, "Earth to Cap?"

It seemed to do the trick, and Steve - no, Cap - straightened himself into a posture Tony was more familiar with, stepping into the centre of the circle. His gaze sought out Tony, and while Tony’s heart did a little jump when their eyes met, he knew Cap couldn’t see his eyes past the armor. As far as he was concerned, Tony was fairly certain Cap didn’t have X-ray eyes. 

"Iron Man. I’d like to welcome you into the Avengers team officially, but I’m sorry to say you are most likely in grave danger."

_ Grave danger? _Tony almost laughed in his face. He’d been in grave danger since it was decided he was to be born to one Howard Stark. He was in grave danger right now, just to himself, because he was dying, because he was accelerating his death by standing here in this moment as Iron Man. It was some form of miracle that Tony remained silent, simply inclined his head, waiting for Steve to elaborate. 

"I don’t know what Fury told you, but you can’t trust him." _ I don’t, _Tony thought dryly. "You can’t trust SHIELD."

"SHIELD, like you guys?" Tony deadpanned. He was starting to get annoyed. He signed the damn contract. Yinsen’s voice never left his head; _ Don’t waste your life _, and here he was trying to make some good out of it. 

Steve looked momentarily taken aback, blinking those wide, baby blues before continuing. “No- But also yes. SHIELD is compromised, and we - those of us here - are undercover now, trying to distinguish who we can trust, and who we can’t.”

Tony raised a brow, which didn’t translate to the world outside. “And I, the Metal Guy, can be trusted?”

At that, Steve smiled, something soft that reminded Tony of date nights, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to erase the memory. The smile wasn’t directed at him. “Agent Hill was confident that you weren’t one of them. In all the time I’ve known her, her judgement’s never been wrong.”

“Well, coming from Captain America himself, that’s quite the compliment.” Hill’s tone was light, but Tony’s seen enough of people like that, like _ him _ , to hear the delight from the praise. A reminder that this was Steve’s life, one he’d hidden from Tony… _ Woah there brain, you gotta stop right there. _He’d promised Pepper, Rhodey and Happy he wouldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgement, and now was a very good time to follow up on that. 

Time to get back on topic. "So, SHIELD’s head is actually a bad guy? Isn’t the whole organisation screwed then?"

"Not exactly," Widow spoke up. "Just saying, but you might want to sit down for this. It’s a little more complicated than aliens led by the God of Mischief invading New York."

With coffee pumping through his veins, Tony had a lot more brain to spare. He folded his arms, pushing out his chest. "Try me."

Tony decided he needed a seat ten seconds later. 

There was apparently an alien species named the Skrulls that had infiltrated governments world-wide in an attempt to overtake Earth. And somehow they’d found allies in a terrorist group called HYDRA (Tony recalled hearing the name more than once during some of his cleanup missions, and filed it for intensive researching later), who aided them in assassination and impersonation. Oh, yes; Skrulls could change their appearance _ flawlessly _. 

"Widow overheard Fury and a HYDRA agent converse within SHIELD compounds, and saw first-hand the transformation from Fury to Skrull," Steve was saying. Tony’s head was already coming up with countless impossibilities, like how many Skrulls did he meet without realising? Tony _ did _ meet with several important figures on a daily basis. Then, because he couldn’t help it, questions like _ was the Stane he killed a Skrull? _ and _ was the Steve who left him a Skrull? _wormed their way to his head, just for them to be squashed.

“I had to leave before I was exposed,” Widow explained. “All I caught was something about Project Insight, which had something to do with the Avengers. I approached Hawkeye and Hill, and we decided it best to include the Avengers. Me, Hawkeye, Cap, the Hulk, and Thor. That was one week ago. Well, Thor’s still attending to Loki’s matters on Asgard, but that’s all of us.”

Steve - Captain America - _ Whatever _, Cap nodded. “Not even Agent Hill, who is a Level 9, knows what Project Insight is. Right now, we’re trying to figure out if the real Nick Fury is alive, and configure a plan to take down the Skrulls and HYDRA.”

The absurdity, the _ stupidity _ of that statement had Tony gaping. “Take down aliens who can impersonate us _ and _a terrorist group with, uh, what?” He did a quick headcount. “Six of you?”

“Seven of us,” Steve corrected. “Eight, if Thor returns.”

“Back up there, Cap. Did you just assume I’m gonna be a part of this?” Hill gave him an unimpressed look, which Tony returned within his suit and knew she knew.

Steve’s grin almost made Tony want to turn his damned suit off so he couldn’t see. “But you already are a part of this. You’re an Avenger, Iron Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! im sorry there's 0 progress on chapter 3 yet; i'd like to see where my hands take me  
(i suddenly remembered why canon universe isnt that much fun to write from the start; god all the things to flesh out im just trying to get my babies some hurt/comfort smh)
> 
> as usual, kudos and comments are SUPER appreciated!! <3


	3. What's in a name like Mandarin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has some dilemmas about being an Avenger, some feels, a little more palladium poisoning feels, some brief bonding time, mandarin attacks, Tony is attacked (again!) and a new character makes an appearance toward the end(;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look who managed to upload before December! Sorry this chapter took so long. Between new classes, pokemon, and my other stony fics(coughs) I hardly found time for this.
> 
> Please be warned that there's some canon typical violence, and some minor (again, canon typical) references to torture! Also, I added a tony centric tag because I feel that's where the fic is. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Tony had been an Avenger for less than 24 hours, and he already wished that he was back in his penthouse when he’d found the Skrull-Fury, told him to fuck off, and enjoy his damned drink. Instead, here he was with his ex-husband who didn’t know Iron Man was Tony, and a group of people who were part of a government agency that sent Steve to him in the first place. And now he was part of said group on a mission to save said agency (and the world) from aliens. Karma, it was definitely karma for the years he’d actively participated in the development of deadly weapons. 

Either way, what happened had already happened. As short as his remaining life-span might be, Tony was still a futurist, who wanted to do _ good _. And now he needed information. No one knew for sure how long HYDRA had existed within SHIELD, and the number of agents Hill, the real Fury’s right-hand, could say she trusted with utmost confidence to be SHIELD, came down to a pitiful, realistic single digit. 

So, instead of running in mindless circles, Steve had sat all of them down on the grass, and decided they should re-introduce themselves to Tony. The cowl came off, revealing messy, blonde hair, and a face Tony saw in nearly forty-three percent of his dreams.

"Steve Rogers. I was recruited by Agent Coulson a year ago, after being discharged from the army."

Tony tried not to focus too much on the fact that he was learning things about Steve he never knew before right now. Yeah, that’s right - looking back now, he didn’t know much about the man; their conversations rarely revolved around Steve. A classic whirlwind romance gone wrong… except Steve had never said he loved Tony (he had thought _ I do _ meant the same thing, now he knew it didn’t). He scolded himself for going off track again, choosing one thing to focus on. "Coulson?" 

The single word, that _name_, seemed to carry an almost physical weight. Steve and Hawkeye grimaced, and Hulk looked uncomfortable while Widow and Hill’s expression turned a careful blank. Warning alarms went off in Tony’s head, but before he could redirect them away from the topic, someone spoke up.

“Phil Coulson was a good man,” It was Agent Hill, her tone inviting no argument. “He lost his life in an effort to subdue Loki.”

_ Oh, dammit all. _“I’m sorry I asked.”

"Don’t be," Widow said, her denemor a deadly calm. "A soldier lives on even in death when those left behind carry on the tales of his heroics."

When Tony just stared at her, she added, “Rogers taught me that.”

“Sometimes, it’s the only thing that keeps us going.”

And when something flickered in Steve’s eyes, for that blink and you miss it moment, Tony added his time serving the nation to the list of things to look into later. He might’ve felt bad if they didn’t look into him first, the sneaky little bastards.

*

Later, as it was, came sooner than expected, in a mere two hours.

Tony had no choice but to excuse himself. His silent alarm went off within his suit, dying his vision in an emergency red. He had to drink his damned chlorophyll detox smoothie, and replace the current arc reactor with a new one. They’d expressed their concerns at his abrupt need to go, but once he said he had to do something for _ his boss Mr. Stark _(it was true, he had something to work on; he just couldn’t remember what), they’d quieted and let him go.

Yeah, he’d let that one out. He (Tony) _ did _ hold a press conference, and it was only a matter of time before they found out the relationship between them. Better sooner than later, Tony had decided after the Avengers were finished reintroducing themselves. 

Black Widow’s full name was Natasha Romanoff, or, if you’re brave slash crazy (mainly that) enough like Hawkeye aka Clint Barton, you called her Nat. She was a Russian spy who got on SHIELD’s radar, and was now a valuable ally to have. She didn’t elaborate further about her life before SHIELD, and Tony was tactful enough to keep his mouth shut. He’d have their files soon enough. 

The Hulk turned out to be Dr. Bruce Banner, a scientist who Tony held in high regard but failed to recognise before that moment. He did look rather different from the mandatory photos on his research papers. Gamma radiation did things to people, and not good things, Banner had explained. Tony had reached for his arc reactor unconsciously, knowing exactly what he meant. At least he didn’t turn big and green, something Tony’d like to run tests on with Banner, if he had the time. 

Barton and Hill had shrugged their stories off, claiming it was a walk in the park compared to what they were dealing with now, which Tony agreed wholeheartedly. Still, being trained to become one of the best marksman in a circus, 

It was right about when he’d decided to raise the question of why Steve held the title of Captain America that his alarm went off. And thank God for that. Tony wanted to interact with Steve as little as he possibly could; he knew he had tells, big ones, and that something would blow up for sure if they reunited as Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. As amusing as it might sound, boy did he not want to touch that can of worms. 

He wasn’t sure if he trusted them yet. 

_ Wait, _Steve had called out as Tony stood, ready to leave. His heart rate had entered the unhealthy range again, wondering if he was busted. 

_ How can we contact you? _

And without turning, he’d answered, words admittedly a tad too bitter, _ Easy. Call the Stark Industries hotline, then press 0 three times. _

_ We’ll let you know how things go on our end. _

_ Appreciate it. See you around, team. _Short and sweet; now wouldn’t Pepper be so proud of him for biting back his snarky remarks? And then he wondered; what would she think of becoming the new CEO of Stark Industries? But first, he had to get her stamp of approval as an Avenger before the official press release by the government. 

You see, the thing was, Tony was sure the universe was against him. Now that he knew there existed those of higher beings (come on, the Avengers consisted of a literal _ Norse God_), he just knew they gathered in some sort of room out in space daily to plot his demise. And he couldn’t even blame them, because the Stark family name was one that would always be associated with war and death, with their hands and body drenched in blood, both dry and wet. 

He was sure his butler, Jarvis, the human one, had put in a few good words for him in Heaven, if one for humans existed, to have kept him alive thus far. He’d gotten so lucky, to have met Rhodes, who tolerated him and called him out and smiled at him and called him _Tones_. Pepper, who saw between the cracks in his mask and drilled her way into his soft, determined to stay. Happy, an everyday man who never asked any questions Tony was unwilling to answer, who let him pour his heart out over a meal or a driver or both. 

Yinsen. God, Yinsen, who was so kind, so knowing. So _giving_. Tony could never forget the smile he’d left the world with, to be glad the last thing he’d done while he was alive was to save one Tony Stark, then he was gone, surely on his way to reunite with his family. 

And so, you see, Tony had come to the obvious conclusion that every time he had something good within his reach, it would be ripped away from him, like a child whose parents decided he was in fact _ not _ deserving of that new toy after all. His life would probably be written with the same ink that first spelt Murphy’s Law. 

Still, despite everything, Tony liked to think he was an optimist. How could he not be, when he was an inventor? If that meant Tony sometimes forget that happiness was not meant to be his, it couldn’t exactly be his fault, could it? It was such a human thing to do. 

_ Don’t waste your life. _At some point, those words had become one of the few that kept him going. 

That was why Tony, ever naive, ever so willing to _trust, _sat alone in his workshop, drank his smoothie, swapped out his arc reactor, and sat his ass down on his favorite stool, asking JARVIS to pull out all the data he’d collected the past few hours. They were categorised in order of their timestamp, Tony skimming through subjects of interests. And he’d paused just short of tapping into the files which contained classified information of the Avengers. Things he (anyone) would want to know, even when he’d gone head first into the mess. 

On a whim that was not quite a whim, yet a kind of feeling he couldn’t describe, Tony ordered JARVIS to destroy all the file on the Avengers members, preserving only those that were critical to, what was it Avengers did, _ preserving world peace? _

"Are you sure, Sir?" JARVIS had asked, hesitation from what Tony knew was recognition of the names whose profiles he’d collected. DUM-E wheeled over to him when he gestured at the robot, claws wide in greeting before clasping in joy as its creator gave it pats. DUM-E was without doubt a dummy, but he was a good-natured one. 

"Positive, J." Tony was sure he would come to regret this decision some day, before or after his death, but he knew. This was the right thing to do, the first step toward trust on his end. 

"As you wish."

Rhodey had mentioned it once, a near decade ago, when they were still young enough to go through party after party and partied till they dropped, _ You trust too easily, Tones. _Tony had just slipped his personal phone number to the woman with wavy chocolate brown hair and a wicked smile. 

"No I don’t," Tony had slurred out, because it was first instinct to deny anything that was said about him. 

"Yes, you do."

"You do, Sir," the JARVIS that was installed in his watch had chipped in, a pleasant hum to his voice.

"Well, then you better make damn sure the planet has more people like you."

And the way Rhodey’s eyes had softened, the loose smile that came to him because he was tipsy while Tony was close to toppling, made him realise _yikes_, he should never talk about emotions like that to someone else ever again. Even to his sweetest Honeybear, it was too high a hurdle. A damned wall, if you would. 

But in the safety of his own cocoon as he laid in bed that night, Tony let himself think: It’s okay if I trust them a little. It’s okay if they get a little piece of me. 

_ (I just hope they won’t break me before I break myself.) _

That night, after a long conference call about Iron Man and another video call with Pepper and Rhodey involving a lot of mother hen-ing, was the first night Tony had a dream where no one was dying in a long time. It was terrifying, how quickly he’d let the group of strangers in. Maybe Rhodey and JARVIS were onto something after all. 

*

Tony wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected it. Perhaps he had, perhaps he simply didn’t think it would happen as soon as it did. 

Two weeks. Two weeks since he’d brought up the suggestion to Pepper, legal documents in hand, already signed, _ Oh my God Tony you cannot be serious right now _ , spent two goods days convincing her it was the right thing to do, she’d be a better CEO than he ever was, he wanted to focus more on his alter ego. And she’d frowned and she’d cried and she’d screamed and she’d laughed, _ You’re unbelievable, _ and she’d kissed his cheeks. _ I accept. _

Three meetings with the Avengers team. The first time, Tony had been out scouting for HYDRA bases he thought harbored Skrulls when he’d run into Barton and Romanoff. It was on the outskirts of a small town, with a population of 1,743. Based on satellite images, the town didn’t exist; it simply popped up on the map a few weeks ago. It was in the middle of nowhere, with no resources and no electricity. 

Barton had spotted him first, firing an arrow to get his attention. "Hey, Iron Man. Thanks for the save last time."

"Which time?" He’d snarked before remembering, _ no, _that wasn’t their relationship. Then Barton had choked, not out of shock but in laughter, the real kind, 

"You’re okay, Iron Man. You’re okay." Oddly enough, that meant nothing the same way it meant everything. 

As it turned out, Skrull-Fury had sent out a team of Agents, most probably HYDRA, on a highly classified mission to this town. Hill caught on that something was off, and while Steve, Banner and herself stayed behind to keep the Agents at bay, Romanoff and Barton, both long term SHIELD Agents, took over the mission. It’s a good thing Skrulls don’t seem to be very smart, Hill had observed. 

They’d stayed hidden, waiting, observing, calculating. There was not much to work on, seeing as the townspeople did… nothing. They were there, they walked, they talked, but other than that, nothing happened. It took a few seconds for Tony to see what the weirdness he felt was - there were no signs of food. He turned to tell the two Agents that.

“Don’t aliens eat?”

Romanoff’d shrugged. “Haven’t met enough to be sure. Thor eats, though.”

And then, afterwards, when they were sure the SHIELD side was clear, they’d gone for a meal together. The team, that was. In their uniforms, no less, Tony slurping his noodles in a way that would have the chef tossing him out if not for the group of people he was with. 

_ Why don’t you take off your helmet at least while eating, _Steve had asked, with the ignorance of someone who didn’t know who Iron Man was. 

And Tony, being who he was, chose the easier path already paved nicely for him. _ It’s in Mr. Stark’s contract. Anonymity is in both our best interests, he says. _The lie came easier than he liked, but it did its job well, and no one mentioned about his helmet again. So that was that. 

The second happened when a live broadcast flashed on his screen in his office lab, that of an attack on hostile territory. The camera panned wide, and there Barton was being shot out of the sky by a beam of light Tony prayed was not a laser that melted flesh. The reporter’s lips were moving at a rapid pace, though no sound seemed to reach Tony. He didn’t think twice before donning the suit and rushing to the scene. 

Naturally, _ because _ he didn’t think twice, Tony’s mind didn’t register that the Avengers were not even in the States, and even with the upgrades he’d made to Mark 34, it still took over two hours to reach them, and they _ weren’t even there_. He briefly wondered if it was an unnecessary trip, until a tiny rock hit his shoulder and he turned, and there Romanoff was beckoning him over. 

Tony ended up spending some hours patching them up before a SHIELD jet came to pick them up. Iron Man once again didn’t, because he had to return to Tony Stark’s side. He only found the slip of paper much later, a single word in a messy scrawl: _ Mandarin. _He tucked it into his pocket; he would get JARVIS to find out what he could later. 

They said third time’s the charm, and maybe it was. The third and last time before things went to shit again, they’d actually called him. Well, Stark Industries anyway, and a very confused Pepper had redirected the line to him (I hope you know what you’re doing, Tony! he could hear her frown through the phone line. StarkPhones were good like that). And surprise surprise, it was Hill who’d called. 

"I volunteered in case they’d find out who you were," she’d explained before he could ask anything. He wondered, briefly, how nice it would be if Hill were his friend, before banishing the thoughts because he wasn’t an elementary school kid. 

They’d needed _ Tony’s _ expertise on a matter regarding tech, apparently. Of course; why else would they look for him? And even more apparently, _ Steve _had recommended him to the team. The nerve of him! Tony squashed down the little bundle of joy that threatened to spread around his chest and huffed into the mouthpiece. Squashed even further down was a seed of hope that threatened to take root, hope that there was chance of reconciliation between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. (Not as lovers, though. It’d be phenomenal if they managed a conversation.)

Hill cleared her throat, and Tony struggled to find his words. "Sure, what do you need?"

And now, as he was awoken by an alert from JARVIS that Protocol 0731 had been activated, his immediate thoughts were _ This is it, I’m going to die now _but that wasn’t it. It was an alert customised for Pepper’s usage, and there were several Code Red voice messages left for him. It was four in the morning, and while Tony was used to such hours, to receive a Code Red - multiple of them - was terrifying. 

"Play the latest message, J." JARVIS didn’t bother to reply, simply did as told. Pepper’s shrill voice rang from the ceiling, chilling him to the bone. 

_ Tony, oh my God. It’s Happy, there was a terrorist attack by the Mandarin and… _

It’s happening. It was happening, karma had once again caught up to him. Tony’s sins ran so deep karma was targeting the people closest to him. He couldn’t be bothered to pull something over his tank top, just tossed himself off the bed while JARVIS started up one of his cars. Fuck, fuck, _ fuck _. Not trusting himself to drive, he ordered JARVIS to take over the wheels. 

"Sir, you heart rate is highly above normal. My diagnosis is that you are experiencing a panic attack from the news regarding Mr. Hogan. If I may recommend the 4-7-8 breathing exercise…"

Tony followed the calming circles that appeared in his vision to the best of his capabilities, but he only felt more like himself when they’d reached the hospital, where he was so close to reaching Happy. A cab screeched to a halt a short distance away and Pepper flew out, her usual perfect ponytail a matching mess with her tear stricken cheeks. Before he could exit the vehicle, she had enveloped him in a tight hug. 

"God, Tony!" Her hands, when she leaned away and closed them around his arm in an icy grip, were trembling. Tony decided then that fear was an absolute mismatch for Pepper. She should always be frowning and looking at him disapprovingly, with the occasional exasperated yet fond smile. 

"How is he?" His voice, too, came out wobbly. The Mandarin. The same organisation Romanoff had warned him about, but he’d forgotten afterward, the slip of paper still sitting somewhere in his pocket. If only he’d looked into the Mandarin immediately. _ If only, my fucking ass. _

"He’s still in surgery. I’m praying he’s alright, but the way the surgeon phrased things…"

Tony knew. He’d lived through it, during Afghanistan. Saw the bodies, smelled the blood. His company had been the cause of so much of _ that _ . He inhaled sharply when his saw the images invading his mind. A blazer wrapped around him, warming his body, and _ oh _, in his haste he’d forgotten that his arc reactor was on full display. 

Tony briefly wished Rhodey was here; he was always better at handling tough situations, at the act of _ comforting _another human being. But Rhodey was out on a mission for the government, and even though Tony knew he’d rush back, his friend’s allegiance was to his country first. 

So Tony’s hand found Pepper’s, squeezing in thanks and support, and the two of them hurried to their friend’s side. Happy had to be okay. 

*

Tony only left Happy’s bedside 40 hours later, after the doctor, nurses, Pepper, and JARVIS reassured him a few dozen times that his condition was stable, and he would make a full recovery. He needed coffee, he decided. 

"You need to go home and rest," Pepper told him sternly, even though dark circles were prominent under her concealer. "Rhodey is touching down in twenty minutes."

Tony wasn’t feeling up to argue. He did feel dead exhausted. Coffee these days didn’t do much for him anyway. Probably three glasses of his juice, and a new arc reactor while he was at it. He agreed, letting her walk him to the car JARVIS already drove over. 

Unsurprisingly, the press was waiting, crowding around his car, and as soon as he was within sights, him. Security guards from the entrance rushed to his aid, but it did nothing to stop the cameras flashing and questions flying. Tony ignored them all, except.

"Mr. Stark, does Iron Man have anything to say to these terrorists terrifying citizens of the States?"

It was the flick of a switch, the slam of a button. He _ did, _ he realised. No one ever asked him that, because A) he never entertained the press anymore, and B) no one knew he was Iron Man. But when asked so directly, when he was weak, Tony gave in. He stared right into the camera lens, spewed out some choice words, and dared the Mandarin to attack him at his own home in Malibu. Next to him, Pepper gasped, and he heard her asking them not to air his home address, but it was _ live _, and Tony was quite done. 

Let them come. He’d dealt with countless terrorists _ and _an alien army by now. What did a group calling themselves the Mandarin got up against Iron Man? 

*

Unsurprisingly, challenging Murphy’s Law never boded well. Whatever could go wrong, _ always _ went wrong for Tony Stark. What did the Mandarin got up against Iron Man? Two stealth jets with military-class ammo, that’s what. The two aircrafts were identified too late, a series of missiles reducing his mansion to rubble. Tony was only saved by JARVIS and his suit on auto-pilot, sending the hostiles a taste of their own medicine, before the cliff gave way and he fell into icy waters.

JARVIS was reading his vitals, his usual calm voice sounding almost panicked. It calmed Tony in an odd way, and he didn’t feel the familiar fear whenever he was submerged underwater. In fact, it was stupid, incredibly so, how the last thought he had before he blacked out was, _ I shouldn’t have kept the ring in my damned drawer. _

*

Tony woke almost peacefully. He was lying face up on cold concrete floor, the ceiling just as bland as the empty cell he was locked in. It was strangely so hospital _ white _ around him, but it was decidedly better than the cell he’d been held in Afghanistan. He sat up with difficulty; muscle and bones tense, strained, and his hands were cuffed before him. His armor, every last piece, had been taken, leaving him in his tank top, pants, and glowing arc reactor. _ That _ much was similar. 

His chest tingled, a light tickle. The beginnings of an arc reactor meltdown. He ignored it. If he couldn’t find a way out of here, he was as good as dead anyway. 

"I see ya awake. So you’re Tony Stark? CEO of Stark Industries?"

Tony wasn’t ashamed to admit he jumped. He wasn’t expecting anyone; who in their right mind would put two prisoners in the same cell? He turned, and there the owner of the voice was, sitting cross-legged on the floor, the two of them separated by… bullet-proof glass? 

"Not in two more days," he answered, distracted. He stood and walked over, knocking experimentally against the transparent wall. "I’ve signed the rights over to my PA to take over the company."

"Is that so? Also, I wouldn’t do that," the other guy drawled, his accent strangely familiar. His gaze darted to a corner, where Tony could make out the small red dot of a security camera. "They said the cell’s sturdy enough to contain enhanced beings. Tried breakin’ out countless times but never succeeded."

No audio recording, at least.

"Who’s _they_?"

"The ones who brought ya here. Think me crazy if ya want, but I ain’t lying when I say they’re aliens looking to take over the world."

Tony blinked. "Wait, you can’t possibly mean the Skrulls?" He was fairly certain he had been attacked by the Mandarin. 

The man’s eyes widened by a fraction, posturing stiffening. “The hec’? You know about the aliens? You one of them pretending to be Stark?”

“What? No!” Tony raised his hands above his head, the universal show of ’I come in peace’, though it looked funny as they were cuffed together. The man only narrowed his eyes, assessing, and Tony rubbed his hands over his face. "Weren’t you there when the Chitauri invaded New York? Pretty sure it made the news worldwide."

"Chitauri? Invasion? When was that? I’ve been out of touch with the outside world. Been stuck here as HYDRA’s guinea pig for ’bout six months now."

"_Six - _"

Only then did Tony take in the sight of his fellow prisoner fully. His hair had grown past shoulder length, tangled and uncared for. The upper half of his body was bare, revealing scarred skin and bruises that looked fresh. And when he turned, just at the right angle, Tony could see metal where flesh was supposed to be his left arm. "Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to you?"

The man shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the situation. Tony knew and understood the coping mechanism, but to be seeing it on someone else hurt. He had to apologise to his friends later, how did they cope with him on a daily basis? 

"The arm was lost durin' my time in service. Don't really remember much so it's 'kay. Here, HYDRA's been tryin’ to brainwash me into becoming their good little soldier. I’m managing so far, but resisting is getting harder. Anyhow, you were sayin’ something about the Chitauri?"

"Right." Tony blinked, dropping himself into a matching sitting position. "Now _ this _is gonna sound crazy, but the Chitarui is an army led by a Norse God’s brother who wanted to subjugate Earth. I helped out a group called the Avengers to stop the invasion, and voila, it’s common knowledge that aliens exist and Earth is open for the taking now."

The man had perked up half-way, and Tony didn’t know why until he blurted, "You know the Avengers?"

"Uh, yeah? Do _ you _ know them?"

The man nodded, jaw clenched tight, and Tony saw fire burn in his eyes for the first time. "Yeah. I’m James Barnes, Agent of SHIELD. I was with Director Fury when the whole thing went down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter! My goal is to have the next chapter up by Christmas. The fic is steering off from what I originally had in mind, but I don't completely dislike where it's headed. 
> 
> As usual, kudos and comments are encouraged and appreciated. Hope to see you guys soon!

**Author's Note:**

> the fact that the additional tags are not in the order i tagged them annoys me to no end.
> 
> thank you for reading! deeply appreciate all kudos and comments (: please no character hate in comments!


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